


Taste of Honey

by orphan_account



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Laurent courting Damen, M/M, Summer Palace setting, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11803119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I think you’re speaking of yourself, beloved,” Damen said with a slight laugh, still kissing along the soft skin at Laurent’s jaw.  He smiled when he felt a shudder run through him.  “Though my intention was for you to enjoy the horse, so I suppose I have succeeded.”“Mm,” Laurent hummed.  He let Damen carry on for a short while longer, then with the press of his hands against Damen’s chest, pushed him back.  “I have plans of my own, however.”Damen’s eyes widened.  “Is that so?”





	Taste of Honey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mxlfoydraco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxlfoydraco/gifts).



> This is written for my salt-mate for life, Serra, who is wonderful, and amazing, and never hesitates to share both my yelling about how soft these two are, and all of my salty rants. Happy pre-birthday, darling, I hope you have an amazing time on your holiday.

I will return, yes I will return  
I'll come back for the honey and you

Yours was the kiss that awoke my heart  
There lingers still, though we're far apart

That taste of honey  
Tasting much sweeter than wine  
-The Beatles

*** 

There was something to be said about the way Laurent held himself, even now in the privacy of the Summer Palace with less than a handful of men to observe them. Regal, royal, and it left Damen feeling some measure of shame that he ever doubted Laurent as King. He’d done his best to make up for it, courting him in spite of their pledges of love to each other and to their future. He would never grow tired—ever—of seeing the flush across Laurent’s cheeks, the way he would fluster—subtle enough only someone who knew him as well as Damen did, could see it.

He stood from where he leant against the side of the stable, using his crooked leg to push himself into a stride as Laurent dismounted. He shook his head, his hair, which was starting to lengthen, shifted round him like a golden halo. Damen’s mouth went dry, drier even still when Laurent’s mouth curved into a smile, and his posture relaxed in anticipation of the embrace to come.

Damen did not hold back.

Arms out, he fitted his hands against Laurent’s hips, but he did not stop moving until Laurent was braced against a tall, wide tree. Pinpricks of sun flickered across Laurent’s cheeks, glowing pale through the leaves, and Damen was helpless against his desire to lean in and kiss him. His fingers dug into the fabric at Laurent’s sides, his mouth pliant, pushing gently between Laurent’s lips with the tip of his tongue.

He revelled in the soft sigh, the hint of a moan as Laurent pushed against him, their bodies touching from chest to thighs. “Thank you for the gift. She is beautiful, and rides like a dream.”

Damen smiled, dipping his head low to kiss the stretch of exposed skin at Laurent’s throat. “It was nothing.”

“It was not,” Laurent argued, soft though, without real intention of confrontation. He let his fingers drift into Damen’s curls, let them twist round his knuckles. “Everything you do has purpose.”

“I think you’re speaking of yourself, beloved,” Damen said with a slight laugh, still kissing along the soft skin at Laurent’s jaw. He smiled when he felt a shudder run through him. “Though my intention was for you to enjoy her, so I suppose I have succeeded.”

“Mm,” Laurent hummed. He let Damen carry on for a short while longer, then with the press of his hands against Damen’s chest, pushed him back. “I have plans of my own, however.”

Damen’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”

Laurent nodded, but his face betrayed nothing as he reached down, linking their fingers together, tugging Damen along.

It had been a long afternoon of work Damen could not put off. Correspondence, diplomatic duties, arranging for emissaries and meetings upon their return. There was a world of work to do to join Akielos and Vere, and they must prepare the Kyroi and their men to hold back rebellions—factions would arise who opposed the union—Damen was not foolhearted enough to believe his people would embrace the union so readily. And he was not foolhearted enough to believe his people would relinquish their long-standing tradition of slavery simply because their King’s experience gave him a change of heart.

Generations would have to live and die before the practise fully died out. But he was determined. He would not give this up.

So Laurent had gone riding, and Damen had done what little work he allowed himself on this stretch of ten days he’d promised to his lover.

Now, in the gentle heat of the afternoon sun, they approached the palace with their palms pressed together. A simple bow to guards as they walked inside, feeling the rush of cooler air from the shadows of the corridor. Laurent had worn mostly Akielon clothing in the palace, though for his ride he had laced himself up.

Part of Damen wondered if it had been for his benefit. For all that their past would never be looked upon fondly, and Damen’s service to Laurent would never be something they wished to repeat, Damen had grown to love being able to slowly undress Laurent. To draw away each lace, to peel back each layer, to lavish attention on every bit of newly exposed skin. He wanted to drown in the slight, breathless gasps Laurent made every time Damen dragged fingers across his sensitive skin. He hoped he would never take those moments for granted.

Normally after a long ride, Laurent would either excuse himself to the baths, or drag Damen along with them for private moments, but instead he led the way straight to their chambers. There was a small basin set up, steam already rising from the top of the water, set along the stone near the window.

Laurent released Damen’s hand and approached, but he was not far behind, his hands drifting toward the first lace at Laurent’s collar. “Shall I attend you?”

“If you wish it?” Laurent murmured.

“I wish it.” There was no lie there, no feeling of service, only of desire to go where Laurent allowed no one but Damen.

His fingers were still large, still far more clumsy than a servant trained to service the King would be, but Laurent didn’t seem to mind. Damen’s breath hitched as Laurent’s head tipped to the side, his eyes closed, his lips parted with short breaths.

Damen’s fingers still shook as though it was their first time—truly he hoped he never lost this feeling of anticipation, of wonder as he stripped Laurent bare.

He was quicker about it now, even as he deliberately took his time to push the cloth from Laurent’s chest, to let the jacket fall from his fingers, pooling at Laurent’s still-booted feet. His hands brushed along the silky, sheer fabric of the white shirt beneath, then as Laurent stretched his arms languidly overhead, Damen pulled it off.

His shoes were next, a kiss pressed to Laurent’s newly exposed ankle, thumbs digging into his arches for only a moment. That sort of comfort would come later, when Laurent was bathed, when they were sated. His trousers slipped down his thighs, far thinner than Damen’s, but taut with wiry muscle which showed his strength.

Still at a crouch, Damen let his lips find the soft skin on Laurent’s inner thigh, and kissed there—a suckling thing, drawing a blooming red mark that would only last a few moments. His fingers drifted upward to the join in Laurent’s hips.

“I want to suck you,” Damen murmured.

“Let me wash first, and then you shall have your way with me,” Laurent assured him.

It was all Damen could do to sit back on his haunches, feeling the dig of the sandal straps in his calves, as he watched Laurent wash down with short, easy motions. It was nothing as thorough as a bath, but the dirt washed away cleanly, and Damen marvelled at the way the light played off the droplets clinging to the exposed skin.

Like a fae, in the old legends he’d been told by his Patran nurse as a child. Beautiful and dangerous, never trust their tongues—and Damen had a brief moment of fantasy, him a lowly human, trapped in a deal with a gorgeous fae prince.

He shook himself from it as he rose, letting Laurent take him by the tips of his fingers, drawing him toward the bed. With a small push, Damen fell back with a laugh, landing amongst the silky bed coverings with a large thump, and his laughter only died when Laurent’s knee came between his thighs, a slow slide upward do they were face-to-face.

“Tomorrow is the important day, but I wish to give you something tonight,” he murmured, punctuating the statement with a kiss.

Damen’s eyebrows rose as he palmed Laurent’s cheek. “Special?”

“Do you not recall?” Laurent asked, teasing, bending low to nip at Damen’s jaw.

He could not recall. An anniversary, perhaps, but he was certain it was not. Most of their anniversaries were ones to be forgotten, buried in the past. They had not yet reached a full year of becoming lovers, of wanting this long stretch of future in front of them. So he was not sure…

“It is very like you to forget something that would be all about you, Damianos,” Laurent said, laughingly, his eyes swimming with mirth. He kissed him again, slow and sweet before pulling back to say, “It is your name day.”

Damen blinked, the shock of it hitting him. So much had happened, and although growing up there was often a palace celebration, he had never given it much attention or thought. “I…”

“I wish to spoil you. You spend time courting me so often, and I know I’m not…” Laurent hesitated, flushing. “I am unpractised and perhaps not as clever at it as I wish to be…for you…but…”

Damen was overcome with affection, his heart swelling to burst in his chest. He could not contain it, didn’t want to, as he wrapped his arms round Laurent, drawing him close to kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. When he finally pulled back, Laurent’s eyes were narrowed, pupils wide, just a small ring of blue around them. “You are my world,” he murmured.

Laurent’s eyes fluttered closed. “I wish to give you…whatever you want. Anything.”

Damen had to look away, the expression of utter compliance on Laurent’s face almost too much to take in. When he had gathered himself, he knew what he wanted—something buried deep in fantasy they had only really mentioned once. But he would ask for it now, because it would bring him pleasure—a gift not only for himself, but for Laurent. Damen had much more experience than Laurent did, but there was one thing he had never shared with another…

“This,” Damen said, and he took Laurent’s hand by the wrist, gently guiding his fingers behind himself until Laurent was touching him just _there_.

There was a brief pause, then the shock of realisation which sent Laurent’s entire face going pink, his breath coming out in a short gasp. “You wish me to… _Damianos_ ,” he breathed out. “This is your gift.”

“It is, and I wish it,” Damen said, pressing Laurent’s hand down harder. “Only if you wish it, of course. But this part of me has never been had, never will be had, by anyone but you. If you choose to…”

“Yes.” The word came out a hissing breath, Laurent helpless to his passion as he pushed against Damen harder, kissing him harder. His want between his legs grew, throbbing against Damen’s thigh, and Damen’s eyes rolled back in his head, his body humming with need.

So long ago he wouldn’t have considered such a thing, and now it was the only thing in the world he wanted. To be taken by Laurent, to join this way, to feel him inside him. They would never be separate after that, even if distance kept their bodies apart.

Fumbling round, Damen eventually found the little phial of oil he kept near their bed, and pushed it into Laurent’s hand. “I want you. I trust you. Please,” he murmured in Veretian.

Laurent’s entire body shuddered, but he pulled the stopper from the phial, and let the oil drizzle across his fingers. He hesitated, his inexperience showing briefly, but before he could give in to his apprehension, he used his free hand to push at Damen’s shoulder until Damen was facing away from him, nearly on his stomach.

Laurent’s fingers explored, the expanse of scars he’d been so tender with, the curve of his hips, the roundness of his backside. He pushed at Damen’s skin until his thighs parted, giving him easier access. No one had ever touched Damen like this before—and it was heady, and a little terrifying. His fingers curled into the sheets, and his eyes squeezed shut, and he braced himself for it.

He was wholly unprepared for the absolute tenderness Laurent showed him. Though Laurent’s experience came from Damen’s treatment of his own body, Damen half-expected the moment to be rushed, to be fumbled. Instead, Laurent’s finger pushed in slowly, so much oil, so much restraint and care for Damen’s pleasure. He found himself rolling his hips into the motion, shifting, trying to find that spark of pleasure which always sent Laurent gasping, and coming.

It took only moments. Laurent’s clever fingers, now two of them, pushed inside and found the space which had Damen seeing stars. He could not hear his moans over the sudden rushing in his ears, and then he heard his breath gasping as his hearing returned to him. He found himself curled at the middle, hips pushing back, seeking, his hitching breath matching that of Laurent’s who continued to push in, and in, and in until Damen reached back to still him.

“Please,” Damen begged in his own language. “Please.”

Laurent was shaking as he pushed Damen onto his back, as he slicked himself up, as he pushed himself against where Damen was now prepared. Damen could tell Laurent wanted to look away, to squeeze his eyes shut and lose himself in the sensations because it was all _so much_. But he did not.

Instead he palmed Damen’s cheek with his clean hand, the other guiding himself inside. There was resistance, the same as it had been with Laurent those first few times, but eventually his body gave way, and Damen was full, full, full. His chest heaved with it, not sure if he wanted more or less. His instinct was to bare down, and he nearly did, before Laurent began to move.

Then…

Then it was sparks of pleasure as Laurent’s fullness dragged against that place inside him, again and again. A raw, wrecked sob ripped from his throat as his hands flew to Laurent’s hips, urging him faster, harder. Laurent’s moans nearly sent him tipping from the edge, but he held on just a little longer, drawing it out, wanting it to last just that much more.

His breath came out shaking as he reached between their bodies, taking his own hardness, gripped firm in his palm. His foreskin slid wetly in his fingers as he lifted up at the chest, and when Laurent’s lips met his own, he came. He spurt hotly across his chest, the sensation rocking him to his core—deeper than he’d ever felt it before.

It was so much.

He almost, almost didn’t realise Laurent was coming. It was when he felt the hot spill inside him that he flopped backward, his head dizzy with the sensations of it all. His hands still trembled as he reached for Laurent, as he helped Laurent ease out of him, off to the side.

They were sticky, and the air from the room became uncomfortable quickly, but Laurent was on his feet before Damen could say a word, a cloth dipped in the still-warm basin, brushed across his stomach, across his hand, then between his legs.

Laurent joined him again, curled onto his side, his face still mottle pink with leftover pleasure, and Damen leant in when Laurent traced his fingertips over Damen’s jaw, across his nose, along his bottom lip.

“That was…”

Damen almost laughed—would have, if he’d had the strength for it. “It was. I’m not sure I wish to do it that way all the time, but I would not have traded it for the world. I am…I am grateful it was you. It will only ever be you.”

Laurent closed his eyes, breathed, then opened them again. “I prefer it the other way, but that was…” He pursed his lips in thought. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I believe you already have,” Damen said, a cheeky smile, drawing Laurent in close for a gentle press of lips. “I wish to stay like this forever.”

“We could,” Laurent mused, letting his fingers brush along the back of Damen’s neck as he leant into the embrace, “but you will miss the second piece of your surprise.”

Damen pulled back, an eyebrow raised. “Tell me we are not to ride horses this evening. I’m not sure my backside could take it.”

Laurent flushed a rich colour, his breath leaving in a huff. “That was not my intent, Damianos. But if you really wish to try me…”

Damen chuckled, pressing kissed along Laurent’s neck to mollify him. “I do not. I only wish to find a way to show you just how much you mean to me. I said you were my world—I meant it.”

“I know,” Laurent said, absurdly fond. He paused a moment, basking. “And your surprise is far less personal, but I believe you’ll enjoy it.”

Damen smiled, bright like the sun. “I’m certain I will.”

*** 

A party.

Damen should have guessed, and a piece of him at first was disappointed they would be sharing the last of their time together with other people. But the moment he saw Nikandros—on the arm of Jord—approaching, he realised it was just what he needed.

There were others as well, that he had fought beside, that had pledged their loyalties. Many of those he loved had been long since lost, but he was no longer lonely because of it.

They drank and ate, they danced to music, and Damen traded sweet, lazy kisses with Laurent every time their paths crossed. Each time, looking across the room, he saw the soft smile of Laurent, the loving gaze that met his steady, and without hesitation.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you look so happy,” Nikandros muttered at his ear as they strolled toward a servant for more wine.

Damen laughed. “I do not believe I ever have been.”

Nikandros hummed. “It seems as though the two of you have been riding hard, however. With the limp in your step.”

Damen flushed hard, turning to give a stuttering explanation to his friend when he saw the glimmer of mirth in his eye, the twist of his smirk. Nikandros recognised the signs. He knew.

The laugh bubbled from Damen’s chest and he punched his friend on the arm. “Keep it up, Nikandros, and I shall spare no detail.”

“I yield,” Nikandros said, and grinned again. “Truly, I am happy for you. I believe this is the start we needed, to join Akielos and Vere.”

“It won’t be easy,” Damen said, and glanced over once more at Laurent, falling in love more and more, at every quirk of his smile. “But then again, when has anything worth it ever been?”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to yell at me about captive prince stuff at my side blog [itwasseven](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/itwasseven) (follows from main blog [angryspace-ravenclaw](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angryspace-ravenclaw)


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